


In Every Other Life

by synfy



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Mentions of Rape, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23679070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synfy/pseuds/synfy
Summary: In every other life, Jean Moreau dies trapped. He dies alone in the Nest, after the final game, by his own hand. It's a peaceful death, as painless as he can make it, and as certain the Earth turning.But not in this one. In this one, Jean Moreau takes a chance, and tries tolive.
Kudos: 20





	In Every Other Life

**Author's Note:**

> I write bad things when I am stressed
> 
> The whole thing is a reference to Nora saying that Jean commits suicide in every other draft of AFTG except for the final one

_He's dead. I need help._

Five words. Five words on his screen, five acts of defiance that could save his life or see him killed. Five words caused by pain, five words that had caused him so much pain. He couldn't hit send. Jean had several broken fingers. His thumbs were unharmed, Riko knew better by now, but Jean could tell that the first knuckles of his middle finger and ring finger were broken on his right hand. Potentially some of the other knuckles, too, but Jean was only sure about those ones. The sharp spikes of pain that had lanced through his hands when he'd typed out that text message, caused by the pressure of simply holding up his phone, had left no doubt that those bones were shattered.

His arms were bruising already. His wrists ached from the pressure that had been put on them, when the other Ravens had held him down so tightly he'd felt his bones grind together. They'd avoided his relatively delicate elbow, but not his shoulder. Jean was pretty sure the left one was dislocated. His head felt too heavy and his neck wouldn't respond, so he couldn't turn to check, but the way it had ached, viciously, when he'd tried to lift it to type made him feel fairly confident. It wasn't like it was his first dislocated shoulder, anyway.

Jean could tell his eye was already swelling. It would be a truly impressive black eye tomorrow, if he still had enough blood for that in the morning. He could feel some of his blood trickling down his face, and a couple other places on his body. He thought the bite on his shoulder might be bleeding. It certainly hurt enough to. Blunt force puncture wounds were always so much worse than regular knife wounds. For one, the bruising around them made it difficult to check for signs of infection.

Jean tried to sigh, but the breath cut off in his chest. He'd forgotten about his ribs. It seemed like he spent more time with broken ribs than with healed ones. This was definitely worse than usual, though. If he had to guess how many were broken this time, he'd say five. He'd gotten very good at guessing. Jean tried to lift his head to look down himself, to assess the damage to his lower body, but his head was just too heavy. He gave up.

He couldn't feel his lower body very well. Not enough for concern, it wasn't completely numb, there was just already too much pain in the rest of his body. Anything from his legs or feet was simply deadened in comparison to the pain in his pelvis. Jean knew that would change at some point, since he was pretty confident he'd heard some of his toes break under Riko's racket, and his shins had certainly taken a good kicking. His pelvis and thighs hurt with a pain that was far too familiar. Jean could feel something sliding down his backside, likely a mixture of semen and blood, and he could feel the ache in his hips from the angle they'd held his legs at. He could feel the throbbing, consuming pain of his ripped anus, something his body should be used to but never was.

It was hardly the first time that Riko had finished beating him and stepped back, out of breath, to watch as some of their teammates, fellow Ravens, stepped in to have their fun. It never mattered that Jean was one of the tallest on the team, one of the best on the team. He wasn't the strongest, and it wouldn't have mattered even if he was. There was no way he could have fought back against three, four, five of them. They held him down while Riko watched, though not always. Sometimes Riko would get bored and just leave. Walk out of the room, go to his own room next door, where Kevin used to live, and leave Jean with them. They always got worse when Riko wasn't supervising them, somehow. Jean had wished, so many times, that he could have done something. Literally anything at all.

He knew, from Riko gloating, what had happened with the short Fox and his foster brother, and the doctor. He wished he could be like the short Fox. He hadn't gotten away from Riko, not really, but he'd made Riko afraid to touch him. He carried knives, and he had pulled one on Riko. When Riko had sent men after him, he'd shut down. He hadn't been able to stop it, either, because there was no way to stop that kind of thing, but the short Fox had just shut down. Mentally gone somewhere else. Jean had never learned that skill. He was too selfish, too foolishly rebellious. He felt every blow he received, and he bore the pain because he had no other options.

Jean looked at those five words on his screen again. If he hit send, he might die. Someone else might die for him. Renee could get his text, and decide to ignore it. He wouldn't blame her if she did that. If she tried to get him out of the Nest, they could kill her. Jean knew well enough that the security system around the Nest included Moriyama men, who wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through the head of an intruder. Even if she managed to get to him, they could still both be killed on their way out. There was no way Jean would be able to walk out, he knew, so she'd have to carry him. He'd be a burden, a liability. Even if they got out, nothing was there to keep them safe from Riko coming after him outside of the nest. Riko only needed to give the word and Jean would be shot. He wouldn't even need to, though. One word from Riko, and Jean would come running right back to him unless he had something to keep him away. Jean was selfish, and a coward, but he wasn't stupid. There was no way the short Fox would agree to protect him like he had with Kevin. Jean wasn't as valuable as Kevin, he never had been. He was simply number four. Riko would give the word, and Jean would have no choice but to come back, and Riko would kill him. To send that text was a death sentence.

But, it was a death sentence with a taste if parole. Jean might have a few weeks of freedom from Riko, freedom from the Nest and the Ravens, if he was lucky. Just a bit, before he was called back to the Nest and killed. He'd be able to see the stars again, maybe. And, if he was being honest with himself, he only had a few weeks left anyway.

Even before Kengo had died so untimely, Jean had known his time was almost up. He'd started shaving less, not that he had much facial hair to shave anyway, to make sure that his razor wouldn't be too dull. After finals, he'd go into the showers and take his razor. He'd wait until the other Ravens had started celebrating their win, and go into the laundry room. No one went to the laundry room after a game. The sharper the razor was, the less it would hurt. After everything, Jean didn't want pain. He'd dig it into his skin, with as much force as he could, drag it down towards his elbow. Repeat on the other arm, and keep going until he passed out. Maybe he'd try for his femoral artery, if he ran out if space before he passed out. With any luck, he'd drift off into a hazy, heady, achey sleep and never wake up.

Sending the text might be a death sentence. Not sending it certainly would be. It was a decision Jean wasn't sure he was qualified to make, lying on his bed, half broken and covered in sweat, blood, and semen. But he knew it was a decision he could only honestly make then. A couple weeks of pain, and a quiet, certain death. Or, a chance at safety that could end in a painful death, but had a small glimmer of hope. Stay, or leave. Jean closed his eyes and hit send.


End file.
